


compatibility

by madanach



Category: Big Bang (Band), K-pop, Winner (Band)
Genre: Awkwardness, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madanach/pseuds/madanach
Summary: Yeah, okay, Jiyong can be a bit of a diva, and yeah, okay, Jiyong can be a bit of a dick. But he has never — and he will defend this —neverbeen the type of guy to do something as reckless and stupid andpolitically inadvisableas hit on a rookie band’s baby-faced hyung. He is twenty-six years old andG-Dragon.Jiyong is not that guy. He isn’t.Post-WinnerTV ep. 6. Kim Jinwoo, crushing awkwardness, Kwon Jiyong.





	compatibility

The kids run out of the room, a giggling, pink-cheeked five-person huddle with a couple stupid hats scattered through for good measure. Jiyong topples back onto the floor, resting his head on the cushion of the couch at Seunghyun’s side.

He waves at the cameramen, hoping he looks either exhausted or scary enough for them to find their consciences and leave. They bow and follow the kids out.

All of them are quiet until the hallway drains of sound, and then Jiyong starts to laugh.

“They’re so cute,” Seungri says amazedly. “Oh, hyung, I love them.”

“You love everyone,” Daesung says.

“Yeah,” Seungri says. “Okay. Yeah.”

“They’re so small,” Youngbae says. “How is that possible?”

Seunghyun takes off his sunglasses and grins. “All of them are taller than you.”

“Did you keep your glasses on just for them?” Jiyong asks Seunghyun. Seunghyun shrugs.

“How were we?” Daesung asks. “On a scale of one to like, cruel and awful.”

“Jiyong,” Seungri says immediately.

“I didn’t do anything!”

Seungri mimes lowering glasses and glowering over them. Seunghyun cackles and hits Jiyong in the back of the head, and Jiyong leans forward, grinning, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“I feel a bit bad,” Jiyong says. “He’s just a kid.”

“He’s their hyung,” Daesung reminds him.

Jiyong stares at him from across the table. “He’s an _infant_ ,” Jiyong says. Seunghyun snorts.

“You should talk to him,” Youngbae says. “Go talk to all of them, actually. They’re probably mortified, after all that.”

Seungri coos. “The babies would _love_ that.”

“Be quiet, baby,” Jiyong says.

“Look,” Seungri says, “All I mean is, I remember being that tiny—”

“You are _minuscule_ ,” Jiyong interrupts.

Seungri soldiers on. “I remember being that tiny and support means a lot, you know. Real support. Off-camera. Like you gave us when it got tough.”

Jiyong blinks at him. Youngbae says, “Aw, maknae.” Seungri bats his eyelashes.

“You should do it,” Seunghyun says. “Maknae’s got a point. You’re GD.”

“Gee-dee,” Daesung says emphatically.

“Hyung, you can’t talk,” Jiyong says. “You scared the shit out of the little one.”

Seunghyun raises a hand to his chest. “I would never.”

“You’re terrifying,” Jiyong says.

“ _You’re_ terrifying,” Seunghyun says.

“Go talk to the children, Jiyong,” says Youngbae.

Jiyong stands up. He makes a show of dusting off his lap, like he had been sitting primly at the dinner table instead of sprawled across the floor. Then he points at Youngbae.

“The blame for this rests on you,” Jiyong says, and leaves.

 

Winner are in the same dressing room they put all of the rookies in, the cramped one that always smells of plastic. Jiyong lets himself in before he realizes it’s probably polite to knock.

It’s empty, save for Jinwoo, his feet up on the makeup counter and an 8-bit beeping coming from his phone. Doe-eyed, angel-voiced, impossibly-if-Jiyong-hadn’t-met-Choi-Seunghyun-awkward Kim Jinwoo.

Jiyong smiles. Then he says, just a little bit sing-song, “Hello.”

Jinwoo twists around and almost falls out of his chair. He dies in his game with a sad, static crunch. _Off to a good start_ , Jiyong thinks.

“Hello? Jiyong-hyung?” Jinwoo says. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Jiyong says back lightly, looking around. The place is deserted. There should be four other precocious, pretty talents bouncing around in here. “Where are your dongsaengs?”

“They went to get food,” Jinwoo says, semi-automatic and deeply confused.

“Weird,” Jiyong says, pulling one of the makeup chairs next to Jinwoo and sitting down. “You didn’t join them?”

“I wasn’t hungry,” Jinwoo says. “No. Uh. Minho is bringing me chips.”

Jiyong raises an eyebrow and tries not to immediately laugh at the guy he came to apologize to. Was he ever this small? He doesn’t think he was ever this small.

“Is this—” Jinwoo starts, and then he twists in his chair to look at the doorway, cranes his neck.

Oh, shit, yeah. That’s Jiyong’s bad. He raises his palms.

“No cameras,” Jiyong says. “Not that I know of, at least. Are they still filming?”

Jinwoo worries at his lip. “I don’t think so. They don’t always tell us.”

Jiyong clucks sympathetically. “Yeah. That’s how it is. It’s a bit gross.” Jinwoo stares at him with his doe eyes. Jiyong stands up, says, “Idol life, yeah? I’ve got a trick to show you.”

Jinwoo says, “Uh.”

The makeup cases are first. Jiyong flicks at the tiny drawers to test their weight. There’s only a few, and they all shake.

“They’ll put you in this room a lot,” Jiyong says. He goes over to the door and stands on his tiptoes, feels over the top corner where you can get a wide angle of the whole place. His fingers come away dusty. “They hook ‘em up here, by the makeup, and there.” He points to the window. “Think of places where they have a good view.”

“Oh,” Jinwoo says. “Um.”

Jiyong crosses over, jumps onto the bench by the window and checks the top ledge, the corners that are empty of light fixtures, the top of the cabinets. When he’s satisfied, he hops back down.

“They always want you to play along,” Jiyong says. “But it’s still good to know. Make sure they get your best angles.”

He sits down again and slouches until his knees are just a bit closer to Jinwoo’s than necessary. “Camera-free. Sorry to disappoint.”

Jinwoo stares at him and doesn’t say anything, just gapes.

Jiyong waves a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Jinwoo,” he says.A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Youngbae says: _stop being a bitch_.

Jinwoo blinks and says, “Yeah. Yes. Jiyong-hyung?”

Jiyong says to Jinwoo, “You really don’t have to be nervous,” and to his internal Youngbae: _this is who I am_.

“I’m not nervous,” says Jinwoo, clearly nervous.

“You’re nervous,” Jiyong says. “It’s fine, but just so we’re clear: you don’t have to be. I don’t bite.”

“I’m—” Jinwoo begins to protest, but gives up halfway through. He’s fidgeting, twisting his thin silver rings. He catches Jiyong looking and presses his hands together, palms flat like he’s praying, caught in the divot of his legs. When Jiyong looks up, his bottom lip is reddening from where he bit it.

Jiyong does not audibly suck in a breath, but, you know. He breathes in.

The kid’s cute. Winner’s nervous sweetheart infant hyung is cute. It’s fine.

Inner Youngbae says, firmly, _No_.

Yeah, okay, Jiyong can be a bit of a diva, and yeah, okay, Jiyong can be a bit of a dick. But he has never — and he will defend this — _never_ been the type of guy to do something as reckless and stupid and _politically inadvisable_ as hit on a rookie band’s baby-faced hyung. He is twenty-six years old and _G-Dragon_.

Jiyong is not that guy. He isn’t.

He does, however, lean forward and tell Jinwoo, “Hold still,” as he plucks an imaginary eyelash from the top of his cheek.

Jinwoo goes deer-in-headlights still and looks at Jiyong like he has eight eyes.

Jiyong says, “Is there something on my face?”

Jinwoo says, “No.” His eyes don’t get any less large.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna get shy,” Jiyong says.

Immediately, Jinwoo’s eyes snap to the floor. Inner Youngbae says, _You’re the worst_.

“I’m teasing you,” Jiyong says, softer. He tries to sound reasonable. Not Youngbae levels, but maybe Daesung. He’s unused to having to explain this. He’s unused to caring if people get it. “Jinwoo-yah. Baby hyung. I’m just being an asshole to be an asshole. I actually came to apologize.”

Jinwoo looks up at “baby hyung.” Jiyong thinks, _Success_. “Apologize?” Jinwoo says.

“Yeah.” Jiyong waves a hand. “For freaking you out at the filming. I had a little too much fun. I haven’t been in that position for a while.”

Jinwoo laughs, sudden, and Jiyong almost jumps. “Really? I mean—really, Jiyong-hyung?”

“Really what?” He watches Jinwoo slouch in on himself prettily and begs for his internal Youngbae to be quiet.

“You’re apologizing for freaking me out by coming here and freaking me out.” He says it quick, almost mumbling, looking up at Jiyong and half-smiling.

Jiyong hums. “Huh. I guess I am.”

Jinwoo just smiles at him. Jiyong twists his ring. He’s being good.

“Look,” Jiyong says. “I’ll tell you what TOP-hyung used to tell Seungri when were trainees.”

Jinwoo spreads his hands out across his knees and nods, looking intent.

Jiyong does his best Seunghyun voice. “Sweet Seungri-yah. Beloved maknae. Our Jiyong is a dumbass and you should never, ever listen to him.”

Jinwoo laughs again, that quick, startling thing. “TOP-hyung said that?”

Jiyong nods solemnly. “Said it and meant it.”

Jinwoo grins down at his lap. After a second, he says, “I think I’d prefer your advice to TOP-hyung’s.”

“Are you sure? TOP-hyung’s very wise.”

Jinwoo nods, still looking down at his hands, clasped tightly on his lap.

Jiyong taps Jinwoo gently under the chin until he looks up, all tense shoulders and wide eyes.

“Don’t let anyone get to you,” Jiyong says. “Not me, not your members, not even YG-hyung. It will feel like the whole world’s about them. It’s not.”

Jinwoo swallows. Jiyong feels it against his knuckle.

“You make it through the day, every day,” Jiyong says. “You do what you have to do to get better. You protect your members and let your members protect you. That’s your mission.” He trails his finger down the skinny line of Jinwoo’s throat and presses, pointing, into his chest. “You’re shy, dongsaeng, but you’re not here by accident. No one’s that lucky.”

He’s a bit distracted by the gentle curve of Jinwoo’s eyebrows, by his own surprising capacity for sincerity. It’s why he doesn’t catch Jinwoo’s hand, coming up, circling his wrist.

“You felt like that,” Jinwoo says. He sounds fascinated.

Jiyong shrugs. “If you tell anyone, I’ll call you a liar.”

“Okay,” Jinwoo says, earnest and obedient.

“First order of business,” Jiyong says, twisting his wrist to take Jinwoo’s hand and pulling it down to his knees, cupping it with his other hand, “You need to be meaner. Just a bit.” Jinwoo’s ears are going slowly red. “If we’re compatible, you have it in you.”

Jinwoo’s soft smile curves up. “I can’t be mean right now.”

“Oh? Why not?” Jiyong squeezes Jinwoo’s skinny fingers. Their rings click, keep the skin at their knuckles held apart by millimeters.

“You’re being too nice, Jiyong-hyung,” Jinwoo says, and then he says, “Just be a bitch like earlier.”

Jiyong stares at him. Then he cackles.

Jinwoo looks terrified and pleased with himself. Jiyong lets his laugh carry him forward — he touches his forehead to their clasped hands. When he comes back up, Jinwoo is red and watching.

 _Man,_ Jiyong thinks wistfully. _This kid_.

 _This kid is almost as old as Seungri_ , his inner Youngbae admonishes.

 _This_ kid, Jiyong thinks with more force. _Your timing sucks, by the way_.

 _Get your hands off his lap_ , his inner Youngbae says.

Jiyong doesn’t pull away. He lets Jinwoo do that when his loud, bustling members burst through the door of the dressing room, calling, “Jinu, Jinu—oh!”

“What’s up, Winner?” Jiyong says. He gives them his best shark grin.

Kid leader Kang Seungyoon goes “Ah, Jiyong-hyung, we didn’t know you were in here—” and pretty Song Minho hisses, “Hyung?”

Jiyong ignores internal Youngbae’s agonized shout, looks at Minho, and says, sweetly, “Yes?”

Minho goes beet red, steps back into doll-faced, sad-eyed Nam Taehyun. Grinning Lee Seunghoon runs off to the corner to cackle. Jiyong hears instead of sees Jinwoo lean forward, whisper, though his voice isn’t as low as he’d like, “Please, Jiyong-hyung, don’t be a dick.”

Jiyong laughs and claps at the same time as Minho half-shrieks, “ _Hyung?_ ”

The Winner kids stand rooted to one place and also somehow manage to scramble. Jiyong turns back to Jinwoo and pulls him in by the back of the neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I am very proud of you, Jinwoo-yah,” he says solemnly.

Taehyun makes a choked noise. Seunghoon audibly muffles his laughter. Jiyong stands up, smiles brightly at the kids, and says, “I was just giving my counterpart a few pointers.”

“Uh-huh,” Seungyoon says weakly. “Sure. Great. Cool.” Minho and Taehyun look like they’re actually hiding behind him.

“Thank you, Jiyong-hyung,” Jinwoo says from behind him, and when Jiyong turns around there’s laughter in his eyes and a brave smile on his face.

Jiyong grins at him, full of charmed affection. “You’re all right, baby hyung,” he says. Then he turns to the bewildered group of boys, winks — to irritate internal Youngbae — and walks out.

“You’re blushing so hard, Jinu,” comes the voice of Seunghoon through the open door, at the same time as Minho yells, “ _HYUNG??_ ”

Jiyong laughs, loud enough for them to hear, and goes to find his members.

**Author's Note:**

> [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ni7C2rNLJco) is the most excruciating thing i've ever seen in my life!!! this is lizard brain fic. i need gd flirting with jinwoo about even with how much i need oxygen
> 
> THANKS TO MY F̶A̶N̶S̶ ENABLERS U KNOW WHO U ARE
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/anahaedra)


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